It’s a little strange to start discovering who you are, and what you want to be when you grow up, at the tender age of 45.
Writing is something I’ve always done, not out of a want but a need. I just never thought I was good enough or interesting enough to be read ( I still struggle with this).
I find it difficult to hold someones attention during a conversation, so why on earth would anyone want to read what I have to say.
So, for the majority of my life, I’ve treated writing like a guilty pleasure, a private habit…
I scribbled my thoughts and feelings into marble composition notebooks.
It wasn’t so much about keeping a journal, it was more a random collection of poetry, song lyrics, short stories and brilliant snippets of genius 🙂
Sometimes I’d leave a notebook lying around by accident, it would be read and I would be asked,
Where do you come up with this stuff?
I never knew whether it was good or bad stuff, just stuff…weird stuff, embarrassing stuff.
Stuff that I should just keep on keeping to myself.
And so I did.
Until I just couldn’t anymore…
It took the death of my father to give birth to my writing in a public forum.
I couldn’t hide behind marble notebooks anymore, I wanted to be seen. I wanted to know if my stuff was worthy of being read and, if not, what could I do to make it better, stronger?
I needed feedback.
Does this blog make me look fat… 🙂
Don’t answer that…
I thank you all for the care you have given me, the light you have provided, and the encouragement you’ve showered me with that has allowed me to bloom.
But…I feel safe here, the same way I felt safe hiding behind my notebooks. I now know I need get out of my cozy little comfort zone and do more with my writing, push a little harder with it… I am not sure what or even how to proceed.
Just like a new mother this has been keeping me up late at night and making me crazy! 🙂
But I love having this much passion about something…
All I know is there is more for me to do.
So much more…
Peace – Rene